


Familiar Drugs

by Jackie_Gaytona



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Biting, Feeding, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Necrophilia, Smut, dark!Nandor, dubcon, is it necrophilia if a vampire is doing it tho, monster!Nandor, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackie_Gaytona/pseuds/Jackie_Gaytona
Summary: Short fic in which Guillermo watches Nandor feed for the first time. And it is very sexy.(Please see the tags before reading!!)---Guillermo was a fast learner: he took to the rules quickly and without complaint. He was a loyal, devoted servant who would never dream of intentionally upsetting his master. But there was one rule that he loathed. It was a rule that had kept him awake for countless nights over the years, and the more time wore on, the more it ate at his insides. It was the only rule that he’d considered breaking on several occasions.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Familiar Drugs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unraveledwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraveledwords/gifts).



> A little fic inspired by Autassassinophilia by unraveledwords https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415316 go give it a read for fun times (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

_It's alive in the dark_   
_And it knows where I'm gonna be_   
_Forever returning, again and again_   
_Into the house, into the den_

**~Familiar Drugs, Alexisonfire**

****

Guillermo had never really been given a contract for his job as vampire-caregiver, but there _were_ rules. These ranged from common-sense (do not disrespect, do not disobey, do not kill me) to downright nonsensical (do not, under any circumstances, touch the battle-axe on the left over there – it’s cursed. Quill feathers must be freshly-plucked from a living bird, preferably a swan or raven; other vampires _will_ be able to tell if I have written my letters using feathers from the Hobby Lobby, Guillermo!).

Guillermo was a fast learner: he took to the rules quickly and without complaint. He was a loyal, devoted servant who would never _dream_ of intentionally upsetting his master. But there was one rule that he loathed. It was a rule that had kept him awake for countless nights over the years, and the more time wore on, the more it ate at his insides. It was the only rule that he’d considered breaking on several occasions.

_“If you want to continue being my familiar, you will not, under any circumstances, watch me feed. Do you understand, Guillermo?”_

Those words had been uttered early on in his uncompensated career: Guillermo had accompanied him on a hunt at Nandor’s request, because the boy seemed to have a knack for finding virgins. He’d managed to lure one at the local park – a pimply Plain Jane with short-cropped hair and coke-lens glasses – and as Nandor took her little, squirming form into his arms and dragged her into the trees, Guillermo had stood sentinel on the path and dutifully waited. But his eyes would keep wandering into the dark, where he’d hear snippets of Nandor’s soothing, muted voice. At some point two yellow, cat-like eyes caught sight of the young familiar and Guillermo’s heart had stopped.

“Get out of here!” Nandor had snarled. The irritated bite in his tone had caused Guillermo to flee without a second thought. And later that night, when the vampire had returned home with a chin and neck smeared with blood, he had announced the rule. Guillermo had absorbed the dreaded words like he absorbed everything else Nandor said. And he obeyed, of course.

Even though he hated it.

The desire to watch had only grown over the years when, at the rare social gatherings the house threw, Guillermo would overhear hushed conversations about his master: “I saw him tear a man limb from limb once.” “I’ve heard he picks his teeth with their bones.” “I’ve heard he can stomach flesh.” “Grace told me she once fed with him and in their moment of passion, he tore the head from their victim and fucked it.” “He’s an animal.” (that last line was said rather amorously).

He had seen the other vampires feed, of course. They weren’t so private about their bloodlust. Like humans and sex, each vampire was different around their food; each had varying needs and varying levels of modesty. The more he learned about feeding, the more he came to realise that to Nandor, lust and bloodlust were inseparable. It made sense then that Nandor wouldn’t want his _familiar_ watching him while he had the oral equivalent of an orgasm.

This knowledge, accompanied by those rare occasions in which Guillermo would hear Nandor’s moans and muffled screams through the door of the cell, only added fuel to his already torturous internal fire.

He was in his seventh year of servitude when it finally happened.

It wasn’t uncommon for Guillermo to assist Nandor with hunting, especially when there was a lull in virgins. Nandor could sniff them out easily within a certain radius, but Guillermo seemed to have a sixth sense for finding hotspots (Nandor had ribbed him plenty of times about it, saying it was because _he_ was a virgin).

Nandor, on this particular night, had already imbibed; but he wasn’t satisfied. They’d managed to slink into a tumultuous college party, thanks in part to Nandor’s questionable hypnosis skills. Nandor, even in his oddball outfit, had managed to capture the attention of a handful of girls. He’d plucked one from her group of friends and taken her outside. When he returned, his mouth was covered in scarlet smudges that he’d tried (and failed) to wipe onto his sleeve. His face was set in a scowl and his pupils were dilated.

“Come, Guillermo,” he’d announced in a disappointed voice. “The blood here is tainted.”

Now outside, standing under a streetlight a block away from the party, Guillermo used his own sleeve to clean the blood from Nandor’s chin and beard. He was used to this closeness by now, but something felt different. Perhaps it was only because they were in public, but Guillermo’s stomach was full of butterflies. Nandor’s irises were black.

“Drugblood,” he spat. “Alcohol and…Guillermo, what is the drug that you puff?”

Guillermo squinted up into his eyes as he dabbed the blood away. “…Ventolin?”

“No, the one with the bubbly glass bottles. People make ‘O’s with the smoke and get hungry.” He tried to demonstrate.

“Oh, weed,” Guillermo murmured. He stood back and used the opportunity to admire Nandor’s handsome face. “Marijuana.”

“Yes! It makes me uncomfortable. No nutrition at all.” He glanced about in dismay. They were completely alone on the street.

Guillermo, ever trying to cheer up his master, said, “Well, at least she was pretty?”

Nandor scowled at him in disgust, and they began to walk down the quiet street. The vampire was staggering slightly. Guillermo wished he himself had taken the opportunity of free party drinks. He’d seen Nandor drunk and high before, but he’d never been alone with him during these times; wherever there was drugblood, there was sure to be Nadja and Laszlo.

They’d hardly walked a block when Nandor shot a hand out to stop Guillermo, and he cocked his head to the side. His eyes slid to the small brick abode on the opposite side of the street. An old, beat-up car sat rusting in the overgrown yard amidst brambles and shards of broken garden ornaments. A black cat stalked past the garden path leading to the front steps. Guillermo shivered.

“Guillermo,” Nandor whispered in a slightly slurred voice. “I smell blood. Sweet virgin blood. It’s so _strong_.” He stepped onto the road and beckoned for his familiar to follow. Guillermo felt his stomach leap. He hardly realised he was following until they were standing beside one of the windows at the side of the house. It was dark around here, but a nearby streetlamp bathed Nandor’s skin in pale light.

“In here,” he mouthed, pointing at the window.

“Master, this is breaking and entering,” Guillermo hissed.

“Really, Guillermo? That’s what you’re worried about?” Nandor turned away and lifted his hands, sweeping them backwards and forwards at the glass, until there was a distinct _click_. He turned and grinned at his familiar, his eyes wild, cat-like.

“Master, you’re drunk. What if there are others—”

“He’s alone. I can hear his heart and his heart only. Relax, Guillermo.”

Guillermo sighed and watched his master shimmy the window open before climbing silently, effortlessly inside. Guillermo resolved himself to standing outside and keeping watch as usual; so he was dumbfounded when Nandor stuck his arms through the window and whispered, “Aren’t you coming?”

Guillermo cautiously offered his own arms, feeling like a child asking to be picked up. The way Nandor lifted him without any difficulty and pulled him inside made him feel even smaller. He found purchase on the carpet but tried to make the embrace last longer than it needed to. Even in Nandor’s drugged state, though, the vampire let go and stumbled away quickly. The blood on his breath was piquant with some kind of hard liquor. Guillermo tried to ignore his body’s response to their brief intimacy as he took in his surroundings – the parts that were lit, at least.

The man was young – barely out of high school, most likely. Guillermo knew this even before he saw the peaceful, sleeping body. The walls were plastered with posters of video games and soft-rock bands. The furniture was scarce; the floor was scattered in clothing. On the boy’s nightstand sat a large fake crystal that glowed from an inner hidden bulb. An old family portrait sat beside it, and above his bed, a beautifully-painted portrait of a reverent Jesus with his eyes rolled to the sky.

Guillermo felt his Christian guilt like a painful tug on his heart, but he willed it away and remained quiet. He wanted Nandor to forget he was here. He’d yearned for this opportunity for so many years. He wanted to know if the rumors were true. He wanted to watch his master moan and writhe in the throes of pleasure. But most of all, he wanted to know what was in store should Nandor ever make good on his promise. Or, at the very least, get bored with his familiar and decide to eat him.

Nandor approached the bed with a stealthiness that was unnerving for such a large, heavily-clad man. His back was to Guillermo as he slowly bent over the body, and Guillermo couldn’t see a thing. With great care, he slid around a tallboy and into the shadows; following the wall until he was standing on the opposite side of the bed, partly concealed in darkness. His heart was hammering in his ears, his hands twitching, his body taut and in flight-mode should Nandor’s absorbed gaze falter and glance upwards.

The boy in the bed stirred a little, revealing more of his face to Guillermo, and more of his muscular, tanned neck to Nandor. How he was still a virgin, Guillermo didn’t know. The word “jock” may as well have been branded into his forehead. Broad face, angular chin, hooked nose, a shock of dark brown hair, pink lips. He couldn’t even jump to the boy’s apparent Christianity as an excuse – from his limited experience, religion rarely got in the way of a college boy’s libido. Maybe he was gay. At any rate, it hardly mattered now. Guillermo had to stop himself from puzzling out the boy’s life; it was something he did far too often with the victims, fully knowing that soon they’d be dead and forgotten.

The boy jolted awake with a sudden gasp, causing Guillermo to startle. Nandor had his head cradled in his arms, and he placed a single finger on the boy’s lips and offered a soothing “shhh…” The sound sent tremors down Guillermo’s spine.

The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of the intruder, but he remained still and silent…almost as though hypnotized. Guillermo’s heart was positively galloping out of his chest now, his breath following in shallow gasps. Both stopped completely when Nandor’s eyes suddenly shot up to meet his. It was hard to tell whether the gold glint in them was a reflection of the lamp or a reflection of his desire.

“Slow your heart down,” he growled softly. “You’re scaring the boy.”

A maddened part of Guillermo’s brain wanted to laugh at the absurdity of those words – _me? Scaring him?_ – but he remained frozen and speechless. Nandor’s eyes drifted back down to the shocked boy, and he slid his finger away from those plump lips and bared his fangs in a terrifying grin. His face changed just then. The whites of his eyes filled with black ink and sunk down into their sockets, like the eyes of a dead man; but his pupils glowed yellow. His skin faded to a sickly, veiny pallor. His fangs grew to twice their original size, gleaming and razor-sharp. Deep fissures appeared in the center of his knitted brow. The dim light played tricks on Guillermo’s eyes and Nandor looked _huge_ – the boy a mere child in his bearish arms.

Guillermo didn’t realise he was moving until his back hit the wall. He wasn’t afraid, no; but his legs were wobbly and weak and he was grateful for the extra support. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shut his eyes briefly in an attempt to catch his breath. The room felt too hot. His erection was terribly conspicuous beneath the thin fabrics of his trousers and boxers, but his hands were limp and useless at his sides.

When he opened his eyes again, Nandor was watching him with a look bordering on curiosity, his left eyebrow twitching up for a fraction of a second. Guillermo’s cock jumped in response. Despite the frightening transformation, Nandor was still in there somewhere.

The vampire slid his free hand down the hypnotized boy’s naked torso and to the hem of the thick quilt that covered his lower half. He swept it off the bed in one smooth motion, and Guillermo’s breath hitched. The satin of the young man’s boxers strained around a solid erection. With surprisingly deft fingers, Nandor undid the button on the boy’s underwear and let his cock free, but he didn’t touch it.

Guillermo watched in slow-motion as Nandor pulled back his lips and met his eyes again. He lunged with the speed and precision of a striking viper; Guillermo’s human eyes could hardly keep up with the sudden attack. The boy let out a strangled cry and arched his back; his cock pulsing and spitting as he unwittingly came. Nandor was buried up to his gums in the boy’s neck and groaning gently as blood bubbled and squelched around his lips. The entire time, his feral eyes never left his familiar; he’d _wanted_ him to see that (“look, Guillermo! No hands!”).

It was all too much. Part of Guillermo felt he should ask for permission to touch himself, but the wickedness in Nandor’s eyes was all the permission he needed. He slid a hand beneath the hem of his cargo pants and unbuttoned his own boxer shorts to allow his cock some breathing room – he was already sporting a wet patch on his trousers, any more would make no difference. He felt hypersensitive, even under his own touch, and so he jerked visibly at even the lightest stroke. This elicited a deep, amused chuckle from Nandor. The vampire removed his fangs from the boy, whose blood hardly pulsed now but instead drizzled lazily down his bare chest.

“Maybe I should turn you into a vampire,” he said to the young man (who was probably dead by now). “Turn you into a vampire and make you my familiar.” He bowed his head and licked a line of blood up the side of the boy’s neck. Guillermo shuddered and groaned in protest. He grabbed himself and allowed a few hard tugs.

“You would make a good familiar, wouldn’t you?” he purred in the boy’s ear. “Unlike our insolent Guillermo. I told him to never watch me feed. Should I fire him? Should I make him watch as I turn you and make you my familiar? My lover?”

As he spoke, Nandor ground his hips against the young man’s permanent erection. He was panting with desire, and soon he couldn’t hold back, and he buried his face in his neck again. He tugged at the bruised flesh as he sucked down what remained in the boy’s arteries. All the while he stared, unblinking, at the only living man in the room. Guillermo, for all his usual reserve, was too undone to care about his master watching him stroke and palm himself. What he saw before him was far more titillating than any porn he’d ever seen. He knew then and there that the memory of this night would be the only pornography he’d need for the next decade.

It couldn’t get any better, but it _did_. Because a moment later he felt a phantom hand cup his balls. He gasped and bucked his hips in surprise, craning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt fingers brush over the base of his cock, followed by a wide palm, and it felt so _real_ …and so familiar. Nandor very rarely touched him, and never in ways like this, but his hand was unmistakable as it teased his aching cock with languid strokes.

But Nandor was over _there_ on the bed, his hands busy cradling the boy and caressing him; his teeth busy tearing out chunks of flesh and sucking the sweet nectar within, stopping only to let loose a moan or sigh. When Guillermo hazarded another look in his direction, he saw he was still being watched. Nandor’s gaze was intense. He was concentrating.

Guillermo’s hands were flat against the wall. He didn’t need them now. The phantom hand caressed him with the tenderness of a lover. His trousers didn’t stir from the intrusion. Whatever was touching him was invisible; disembodied. And he was _so_ _close_.

“M-Master,” he mewled, and was embarrassed when his voice came out a strained whisper. “Are you…are you doing this?”

Suddenly the ghost hand disappeared, and Guillermo let out a pained groan. Nandor slid his fangs out of the boy’s neck and pushed his lifeless body back on the bed without a second thought. By the time he approached Guillermo, his face was all but normal again, though the golden eyes remained. He stopped within an inch of his familiar.

“Am I doing what?” he asked. Poison dripped from the words.

A sob escaped Guillermo’s throat unbidden, and it took every inch of self-control not to grab one of Nandor’s _real_ hands and force it against himself. “Please,” he begged. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he didn’t bother holding them back. He _needed_ this; needed it more than he needed his lifeblood. Nandor could devour him whole and he wouldn’t care, just give him this first…

“Guillermo,” Nandor said in a voice that was suddenly too gentle. He wrapped his arms around his familiar’s waist and yanked him into an embrace. Guillermo squeaked, but then melted against him as he felt a delicious hardness against his groin. He tried to be discreet with his rubbing at first, but soon the pleasure became too much and his arms were around Nandor’s neck and he was clutching him tightly and bucking and squirming and crying out with abandon. Nandor calmly took him by the hair and tilted his head to the side and touched his shortened fangs against Guillermo’s pulsing neck.

Guillermo imagined the bite, so caught up in his own desire. He let out one last groan, loud and heady, and came in his trousers. He rode Nandor’s bent thigh, panting heavily as his orgasm faded. When he finally came back to earth, Nandor was still at his neck. The vampire wasn’t biting him as he’d thought, though…just violently sucking. Tomorrow he’d have one hell of a hickey.

“Nandor,” he breathed, and then didn’t know what else to say.

Nandor pulled away and looked at him. His mouth was covered in drying blood. Guillermo felt the wetness of it on his shoulder; but it wasn’t _his_ blood. He hoped – _prayed_ – that one day it would be. The vampire lifted a hand and drifted the back of it lightly over Guillermo’s cheek, his eyes suddenly gentle but his face hard and sober.

The hand came away from his cheek, only to be swirled in front of his face.

In a deep, almost comical voice, Nandor murmured, “Guillermo…once we leave this house, you will not remember anything that happened in here.”

“I won’t remember anything that happened in here, Master,” Guillermo whispered, his eyes glistening with disappointment.

After that, Nandor acted as though nothing had ever happened – and perhaps it hadn’t, for him. Perhaps his drugged mind had wiped it from his memory as he slept the following day. Guillermo didn’t dare ever bring it up. Even twelve years into his servitude, even after risking his life countless times for his master, he kept it a closely-guarded memory that he only ever unlocked during his loneliest nights in bed.

Nandor may or may not have forgotten all about it, but it would forever remain a crisp, clear picture in Guillermo’s mind. It would haunt him in dreams and tease him upon waking and have him clutching half-asleep for his cock in an attempt to relive some part of what he’d felt that night. It was the night he’d discovered he was immune to Nandor’s hypnotism.

It was the night he had fallen in love.


End file.
